Wednesday, February 15, 2006


You know you're broken. You know that. You didn't come with a warranty. They can't send you back. But somehow it's as if God slipped up and left out some parts. Or put in parts that weren't supposed to be there. Parts that make you feel too much.

And sometimes the misery slams you against a wall and you know you're gonna crack right open. But your skin holds together. That is the miracle of skin. It doesn't crack under pressure unless you help it to.

To be broken is to know that nothing is right and nothing will ever be right again. You know what I'm talking about. You know that you can look at a Van Gogh and just want to curl up into a ball on the floor and scream silently. You know that however much you cut yourself, you can't bleed it away. Or dull it with wine. Or sky-coloured pills.

And nobody understands. Nobody will EVER understand. Remember that. And just keep on shattering. When God finally arrives to sweep up the pieces, maybe you can ask why.


goldennib said...

I feel slightly off-key or as if I'm one step out in the march. I look at the people interacting around me and they look like they are connecting in ways I just don't understand. It's like there's a secret piece of information I'm missing.

Jenn said...

Yeah. Or maybe they just appear to be. Maybe it's because they're superficial and you're intense. Ever thought it could be that?

Andy said...

I think about the expression "broken" sometimes. And I remember reading this--I don't remember where, but I think it may have been the acclaimed Holocaust novel Night--that the human spirit is unbreakable, is stronger than anything thrown at it. I believe it. There are resources available to help you, if you need them. And shoot me an email, if you like, too. Be well.

gutterspace said...

I agree with goldennib. while the world walks in one direction, me and a bunch of others head the opposite way. And end up feeling all queay and weird afterwards, wondering if there's something really wrong with us.

gutterspace said...

oops, typo:(
Its queasy

Jenn said...

Andy: Thanks my dear. I read Night too. I had to read it for a class. I even wrote about it here. Although I think in Night, the author's spirit was utterly crushed. His last words taste of living death. Maybe you mean Victor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning."

gutterspace: Marching to the beat of a different drummer? Just keep on marching. The masses may be the majority, but it doesn't follow that they're always (or even ever) right.